


Because I Love You

by what_on_io



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, One-Shot, Romance, though not THAT much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 19:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_on_io/pseuds/what_on_io
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince gets arrested and Howard is there to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on FF.net around two years ago. I have no idea why I'm posting it here now. Enjoy! (Unless you clicked on this thinking it was something new and then realised you'd already read it two years ago, in which case, sorry! I always do that!)

It had been exactly six hours, forty minutes and thirty-two seconds since Vince Noir had left the flat, and Howard Moon was still sitting on the couch in the living room, staring at the blank television screen and glancing every few seconds at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was almost four a.m. – a new record even for Vince.

Howard usually would have gone to bed hours ago – after all, what was unusual about Vince going out partying for the fifth night on the trot? Nothing. Exactly. So why was he sitting rigidly on the couch craving sleep instead of tucked up in a comfortable bed? Even he didn’t even know the answer to that.

Replacing the cold mug of tea on the coffee table, Howard relaxed back into the soft cushions behind him, closing his eyes. There was nothing stopping him from taking a nap on the sofa now, was there? Sighing contentedly, Howard found a comfortable position and tried to sleep. Despite being up at seven the previous morning and despite having done a day’s work, sleep didn’t present itself to Howard. In fact, he might as well have been in a noisy tube station, with all the noise in the flat. Hang on… noise? Last time he checked, Naboo and Bollo had both gone out to some party or other, and of course Vince still wasn’t home… This noise drowned out the ticking of the clock and the slow dripping of the tap that he hadn’t turned off properly. Oh. The phone was ringing.

A million equally disturbing scenarios rushed through Howard’s mind as he heaved himself up off the couch and staggered to the phone, nearly tripping over one of Vince’s discarded boots in doing so. Vince. Images of his flat-mate and best friend lying dead in a ditch somewhere, or in some seedy club with strange men crowding him, or passed out in a friend’s flat after caving to peer pressure and accepting heroin or some other illegal substance plagued Howard.

Unable to cope with his growing unease, he snatched the phone off the cradle and pressed it to his ear, whispering a battered ‘hello’ into the receiver. Relief flooded him as he recognized the voice on the other end of the line – it was quite clearly Vince, but not sounding as rowdy or as intoxicated as Howard usually expected when he called to pick him up because the tubes had stopped running and the cabs were too wary of drunkards to stop for him. In fact, if he wasn’t much mistaken, Vince sounded _scared._

“H’ward?” Vince asked shakily, and Howard sighed.

“Yeah, Vince, it’s me. What is it this time? I’m trying to sleep,” Howard lied, laying it on thick in a futile attempt to guilt trip the younger man, maybe into being a bit nicer to him in future.

“Er, yeah… Sorry about that, Howard. It’s just… I’m in a bit of trouble.”

“T-trouble? What’s happened, Vince, are you okay?”

“Er, n-not really, to tell the truth.” Howard couldn’t help but notice how small and fragile Vince sounded, “I’m at the police station.”

“What?!” Howard fought to lower his voice, to keep calm. Had Vince been attacked? Cornered in a dark alley by a gang of thugs with knives? Or worse?

“I’ve been arrested,” Vince admitted guiltily. Howard sagged with relief – which, admittedly, was short lived.

“Arrested? Vince, what the _hell_ is going on? If this is a wind-up, I swear, I’ll come at you like-“ Howard didn’t even have chance to think up an intimidating simile because Vince cleared his throat and interrupted.

“It’s not a wind-up, Howard. Things… got a bit out of hand. I was drunk, an’ some guy at the bar was tryin’ it on with me a bit, an’ then it turned out he was only mockin’ me an’… I might’ve punched him in the face.” A surge of pride washed through Howard for the younger man. Although physical violence should be avoided at all costs, the thought of some leering drunk laughing at Vince was too much to bear.

“What did the police say?” Howard asked as bravely as he could muster. There was a moment of silence on the line.

“They jus’ gave me a warnin’. I’m just… They told me to call someone to pick me up, an’… Could you pick me up, Howard? If it’s not too much to ask, I know you wanna go to bed an’ everythin’-“

“I’m on my way,” Howard said quickly, slamming the phone down before grabbing his jacket and the keys to the van, darting out of the front door without bothering to put on a pair of shoes.

 

The police station was busy when Howard pulled up outside. Officers milled around outside, drinking coffee from Styrofoam cups, a couple of chavs who looked as if they were also waiting to be picked up smoking cigarettes close to the doorway. Howard scanned the crowd for Vince, but couldn’t spot the younger man anywhere. It looked like he was going to have to get out of the van… without shoes. He cursed his spontaneity as he looked for a parking space, swearing under his breath as he placed one foot on the cold, wet tarmac and then the other. He cursed the London weather and the broken glass littering the floor as he picked his way carefully to the entrance. The inside of the police station was bustling – about seven phone calls going on at once, a flustered secretary recording things in a large book at the desk, people sitting around on plastic benches, talking into mobile phones or simply slumped there. Howard spotted Vince sitting next to a pregnant woman wrapped in a thick jacket, swearing loudly at one of the police officers and trying to light a cigarette indoors. Vince was hunched forward in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible in the hope that nobody would pay any attention to him. The jumpsuit that had started out purple was now stained with blotches of red.

“Vince?” Howard asked gently, causing Vince’s head to snap up.

“Howard! You came,” he said, sounding slightly shocked, as if he doubted his friend’s loyalty. Howard frowned, searching the younger man’s face for any signs of harm. Apart from a bruise blossoming on his jaw and a cut above his right eye, Vince looked physically fine. Howard offered him a hand up and started to lead the way back to the front doors. Nobody spoke until Howard unlocked the van and helped Vince inside. Vince didn’t even protest, just allowed Howard to half-lift him into the passenger seat, then huddled in on himself a bit more when Howard climbed in on the other side and started the engine.

“What were you thinking, Vince?” Howard asked tiredly, and Vince shrugged, gazing stoically out of the window, his jaw set and teeth gritted, making it clear that Howard wasn’t going to get an answer. “I mean, it’s one thing getting so plastered that you can barely stand, but I thought bar-fights were a bit past you, little man, yeah?”

“Mmm,” Vince agreed, not trusting himself to speak. Tears were threatening to spill at any second – tears that he’d managed to disguise in the police station because of the rowdy chavs in the corner and the big officer keeping watch on the other side of the room.

“Well, aren’t you going to say something? Vince, this really isn’t like you. Getting into a fight is one thing, but you’ve been really quiet since I picked you up… Is something wrong, little man?” Vince tucked himself further into his seat and blinked rapidly, trying to get rid of the stupid tears. Howard must think he was being a right arsehole. He was supposed to be the Sunshine Kid, the epitome of optimism. He wasn’t supposed to go around punching people in the face and getting arrested, of all things. “Vince?” Howard asked again, sounding increasingly more concerned. Something inside of Vince snapped, and he swiveled to face his best friend.

“Yeah, Howard, of course somethin’s wrong! I’ve just been arrested, for fuck’s sake! I’ve been publicly humiliated in front of all my friends, towed away in a police car and stuck in a fucking interview room for God knows how fucking long, drinking disgusting coffee an’ asked ridiculous questions and fucking laughed at an’- an’- IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” Vince thundered suddenly, causing Howard to jump back a little and swerve on the road, narrowly avoiding wrapping the van around a nearby tree. Howard hardly had time to ponder what had gotten into Vince before tears started cascading down his friend’s face, which he stubbornly swiped away with his sleeve, sniffing loudly. Howard reached out a hand to touch the other man’s arm, but Vince yanked his own hand away and crossed both arms across his chest. “Jus’ take me home, yeah?”

 

The flat was still as empty and silent as it had been when Howard had left, and after unlocking the door with trembling hands, he climbed the stairs wearily and went straight to the kettle, planning to brew a pot of tea to warm Vince up while he threw himself on the sofa and switched on the TV. It was almost five o’ clock – only three more hours until it was time to open up the shop. Oh, well – it wasn’t like either of them would be up to working, anyway, not in this state. Howard carried the cup of tea to Vince before going into the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit, planning to sort out Vince’s injuries before either of them dared to get any sleep.

“I’m sorry for shoutin’ at you, Howard. ‘Specially after you came all that way to get me. I just-"

“You don’t need to apologise, Vince. It’s been a long day. Just… explain one thing, please? What did you mean, when you said it was my fault?”

“Nothin’, Howard, I was jus’ being stupid. I didn’t mean it, I promise, I- It’s my fault. It’s all my fault-“ Before Howard could offer any sort of consolation or probe him any further, Vince collapsed into ragged sobs again, curling into a small ball on the couch. Howard abandoned his own drink and the first aid kit on the table and went to sit by his friend, wrapping both of his arms around his shaking frame and willing him to stop crying, anything as long as he’d stop crying… “The guy at the bar… He said he’d been to one of our gigs. Said it was the worst thing he’d ever heard in his life. He said that I was tryin’ to distract people from the awful music by pullin’ shapes at the front of the stage… An’ that I was tryin’ to distract people from my dad, the Geography teacher playin’ keyboard at the back,” Vince sniffed, nestling closer into Howard’s chest.

Howard sighed – he’d heard that particular insult so many times before, it was hardly worth getting upset over anymore. “Anyway… He kept tryin’ to snog me, said if you were good enough for me, surely he was, too… An’ I told ‘im that you’re worth a million of him. An’ I punched him.” It was too much to take in all at once. Howard fought with his brain whilst trying to figure out which question was the most important.

“Didn’t you tell him that we’re not, y’know… like _that_?” Howard settled for this query, unable to comprehend the fact that Vince had stuck up for him by smacking a man in the face. Vince, who sold him out for a shiny cape. Who ruined one of Howard’s most prized (and expensive) possessions to make himself look good in front of yet another group of friends who would leave him at the drop of a hat. Who laughed at him in the Arctic when Howard tried to pour his heart out… Vince, who kissed him on the roof. Who saved his life God knows how many times. Vince, who, despite his many flaws, had always been there when Howard needed him most.

“Well, it wasn’t the first thing on my mind, to be honest,” Vince mumbled, “And ‘sides…”

“’Sides what?” Howard pressed.

Vince shrugged. “I ‘aven’t gotta prove anythin’ to him, ‘ave I? Let ‘im think what ‘e wants to.”

“Of course you haven’t, little man.” A pause.

“It’s things like that, Howard,” Vince said slowly, carefully. Howard frowned, pulling away from Vince slightly to look him in the eye.

“Things like what?” he asked, clearly confused. Vince blushed, and looked down at his boots (which, admittedly, were quite distracting – bright gold with added sequins that reflected the light).

“Like you callin’ me little man, and huggin’ me when I’m upset, an’ like when- Like when you told me you loved me.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Howard’s voice betrayed him, and broke on the last word. To tell the truth, he was expecting to be ridiculed, yet again, by Vince just as he had done in the Tundra… but this time Vince didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a smile.

“It’s things like that that make me think that maybe… we _are_ … like… _that_.”

“Wh-what?” Howard asked shakily, “But we’re not, Vince, we’re friends, best friends-“

“Flat-mates, room-mates, band mates, co-workers-“

“What are you trying to say, Vince?”

“I don’t _know_ what I’m tryin’ to say! That’s the whole point! I don’t know what we are anymore… But I just… Would it be that different, if we were… like that? L-lovers, as well as everything else?” Howard froze. Everything was happening so quickly, it was making him slightly dizzy.

“Just tell me what you want, Vince, please.”

“This,” Vince said, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to Howard’s. He shuddered at the familiar feeling – after all, the only other kiss he’d ever experienced was back on the roof that fateful night of his birthday party. They molded into each other so easily, so effortlessly, that it was just like two halves of a whole. Without the other, each half would be rendered useless. “I’ve wanted this for ages, Howard. S’all I’ve been able to think about. Since… well, as far back as I can remember.”

“B-but you _laughed_ at me…”

“I didn’t mean it, Howard, I swear. I just- I’m not good with all this emotional stuff. Unless I’m speaking in fashion terms, of course, but that didn’t seem appropriate for tonight. I wanted to say it back, honestly, I did. But I couldn’t. It was so… sudden. I wasn’t expectin’ it, s’all.” _Say it now!_ Vince’s brain urged him, and he opened his mouth to obey, only to be cut off by Howard shoving him roughly away and leaping to his feet.

“Right, where is it?”

“Wh-where’s what?” Vince echoed, gazing up at the older man with wide eyes.

“The hidden camera. I know you’ve installed one, Vince, just tell me where you’ve put it and we’ll forget all about this!” “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Howard!”

“I’m _talking_ about the camera that you’ve hidden in the flat so you can record this and show your petty little friends and have a good laugh at Howard Moon once again! Well not this time, sir! You won’t fool me this time, you won’t-“ Howard was silenced abruptly by Vince’s mouth against his again. Vince took both of Howard’s hands in his own and broke the desperate kiss first, only to rest his head on Howard’s shoulder.

“I promise, Howard, I’d never do that to you. Not with this. I admit I can be a bit of a prick sometimes, but I wouldn’t… How could you think I’d do somethin’ like that… Now? After all this? I’ve waited so long to say this, Howard, I can’t believe you’d go gettin’ all paranoid at a time like this… When I’m about to say…”

“About to say what?” Howard snapped, still fuming, but slightly less than he had been a few seconds ago, “Spit it out, then!”

“About to say ‘I love you’.” Howard’s heart melted and the world around the pair ceased to exist as they shared a tender embrace.

“I love you, too, little man. I love you too.”


End file.
